Saturday, February 4, 2017

Few Are AngelsInger Iversen(Volume I-IV)Publication date: December 26th 2016Genres: New Adult, Paranormal, Romance

The entire Few Are Angels series in one click for only .99c!

• Few Are Angels
• Immortal Heart
• Awakened
• Eternal Light

War is raging between the Immortals and the Dark Prince’s army of half-breed vampires — and gifted Ella finds herself at the center. Can renegade half-breed vampire Kale keep her safe as their forbidden love awakens? After a fatal hit and run accident, Ella Monroe fears that she’s lost more than her beloved parents. Horrifying visions of a past life and a disturbing voice in her head have psychiatric professionals convinced that she’s lost her sanity as well. But when Kale–a dark and handsome stranger with a mysterious past–reveals the true meaning of her visions and the tremendous power she wields through them, Ella must come to terms with the devastating truths of her own past, while eluding an ancient Dark Prince who seeks to control not only her future.

The snow was deep, and the air so cold that he felt the wind’s sharp teeth pierce his skin. In the distance, someone was burning wood. The scent was strong and familiar. It reminded him of his home so long ago with Illiana and Agnes. He couldn’t afford to be disrupted by their memory. At one point, his actions had been for their survival. The need for bloodshed and vengeance once weighed heavy on his mind. He hadn’t intended to become the monster they’d claimed him to be, but now he prided himself on the names they called him. His personal favorite was the Dark Prince. He was not royalty, but his name would never be forgotten, nor could he forget the reason he’d become the man he was today. His men, through his connection to the Arc, had traced her to a state on the east coast. Their bond had grown stronger because of her visions, which had become longer and fiercer. It pleased and excited him to know how close they were to finding her exact location. It wouldn’t be much longer.

The Council was close on his heels. He and his men had reduced their numbers, but they remained quite bothersome. He never understood why their leader would not create more Immortals, as he had done. His brand of Immortals was vastly different than himself and the Council. He’d found a great use in half-breed vampires, or Chorý, even though they were not as powerful as a pure blood. They were still physically challenging to the younger Eternals. Ancient Eternals such as himself and the leader of the Council could crush a half-breed without breaking a sweat. Because they were not accepted by their own kind and unable to inform humans of their existence, half-breeds were very easy to control, especially when rewarded with acceptance.
The Dark Prince returned to his room and closed the balcony door. Darke, the first in command in his arsenal of Chorý, waited for him in the office. The Dark Prince removed his coat and placed it gently on the chair in front of Darke. He wouldn’t invite the man to sit. He wouldn’t provide even that small comfort until his job was completed.
“News?” he demanded.
Darke bowed his head and placed his arms at his sides. “Sir, we have tracked her to a city called Virginia Beach, but she is no longer there. We searched her home, and though it’s still furnished, it looks abandoned. It’s because of her parents’ demise that we believe her connection to you had begun.”
The Dark Prince already knew the cause of the initial connection, and he would use that to his advantage once he found her, but curiosity didn’t allow him to remain silent. “What has become of the girl?”
“She was sent to a facility for the mentally insane, sir.”
“What?” the Dark Prince bellowed. Surprised at his own outburst, he calmed himself and sat.
The Dark Prince had chosen Darke to lead his men because of his fearlessness and vicious battle tactics. Darke’s discomfort didn’t go unrecognized by Laurent.
Darke shifted his stance and cleared his throat before he continued. “Sir, if I may? This could be good for you. She may feel alone at a time such as this and need only for someone to accept her.”
There were times that the half-vampire was of more use to him than he’d like to admit. The girl would be an outcast amongst her own kind. He would exploit that insecurity as he had done to so many others—it would be perfect. Illiana had once called him ‘gentle devil’ because of his ability to lead an opponent to their death while pretending to cushion the fall. Suddenly, the air around him was thick with the scent of roses and sandalwood. It was her scent. Each Arc had a unique scent. The new Arc’s essence was delectable. The aroma of roses was light and innocent while the sandalwood was as strong and fierce as her power.

Author Bio:
Inger Iversen was born in 1982 to Anne and Kaii Iversen. She lives in Virginia Beach with her overweight lap cat, Max and her tree hugging boyfriend Joshua. She spends 90 percent of her time in Barnes and Noble and the other ten pretending not to want to be in Barnes and Noble.

Friday, February 3, 2017

Here’s a roadmap to Edge of
Night. Welcome to an eclectic collection of nine short stories.

You’ve done time at the edge of
night. Nail-biting, stomach-churning time filled with hissing snarls, menacing
growls, the whoosh of unnatural wings, and the flash of hellfire. Time that
lasts forever, but is over within seconds because time becomes unpredictable in
places like that. You don’t want to stay, but it’s too fascinating—in a grisly,
macabre, toe-curling kind of way—to turn your back on.

You recognize it, though. The
place just at the threshold of darkness where it’s not quite safe anymore. Evil
broke its bounds at the edge of night, or maybe it always ran free and we’ve
been deluding ourselves all along.

Join me for nine supernatural
tales. Monsters, demons, gods—fallen and otherwise—ghosts, aliens. A touch of
science fiction. More than a splash of romance. From magical lands to a
chilling glance into the past, Edge of Night has something to tempt everyone.
Everyone who craves danger, that is. It takes guts to read the stuff woven into
nightmares.

It’s a tough job, but you’re up
to it.

Welcome to my world. A world
where magic holds court and the dude next door just might be a demon. Or a
shifter. Or an alien.

Ann Gimpel is a USA Today
bestselling author. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing
speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared
in a number of webzines and anthologies. Her longer books run the gamut from
urban fantasy to paranormal romance. Once upon a time, she nurtured clients.
Now she nurtures dark, gritty fantasy stories that push hard against reality.
When she’s not writing, she’s in the backcountry getting down and dirty with
her camera. She’s published over 45 books to date, with several more planned
for 2017 and beyond. A husband, grown children, grandchildren, and wolf hybrids
round out her family.

I don’t do relationships…especially not with egotistical jerks like my new boss, Damian Wood. The man is vile, arrogant, condescending… and scorching hot. If he weren’t my boss and a grade-A a*&hole, I would turn on my world-famous charm and seduce the pants right off the man. But giving in to his undeniable allure might just cost me my job. Or worse yet, my heart.I’m a prick…and Janice Holder’s new boss. Which means I should stay away, but I’ve never claimed to be a nice guy. If I don’t get my twisted fascination under control, it will only be a matter of time before I bend her over my desk and screw her. Hard. The way I’ve imagined no fewer than a thousand times since we met. I’m playing with fire and neither of us can afford to get burned, but landing in hot water might just be worth the risk.Faking It is a full-length, standalone office romance. It contains steamy scenes with a ton of heat and strong language intended for mature audiences.

I slipped into the hallway and headed straight for Damian’s office. His door was shut, but I barged in, slamming the door behind me. With his Bluetooth headset in, he glanced up and smiled until he saw my glower.
“What did you do?” I hissed.
“Hey, I’m going to have to call you back,” Damian said to the person on the other end.
I paced back and forth as he said his goodbyes. The musky scent of his cologne permeated my senses and my body hummed in spite of my anger. He’d cut his hair since the last time I’d seen him and faint tan lines highlighted his cheekbones, I assumed from skiing. The man was sexy as hell and being enclosed with him was bringing back all of the things we’d done the last time we were in a room together.a”Hello, sweetheart. Long time no see,” he said as he leaned back in his chair and regarded me with a wry grin. His eyes trailed down my body.
“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me.” ”Is that any way to greet your man after four long days apart?” ”What the hell is going on? Cindy just blindsided me in the bathroom.”
“Word sure does travel fast around here. I apologize you had to hear the happy news from someone else, but maybe if you hadn’t hidden in your office all day or if you’d bothered to answer any of my calls, I would have been able to fill you in.”
My face flushed hot, but I refused to let him goad me. “Fill me in now.”
“Why don’t you sit down?”
“I don’t want to sit down,” I yelled.
“Settle down. A lovers’ quarrel would be suspicious so soon after our big announcement.” He gathered his bottom lip between his teeth to hold back the grin threatening to erupt.
I stopped in front of his desk and placed both hands on the top. “I swear, if you don’t stop fucking around, I’m going to scream so loud that everyone in this building will know the truth.”
“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are when you’re angry?”
Shaking my head with disgust, I spun around and headed straight to the door, but he was on his feet and in front of me faster than I could blink. A man his size should not have been able to move that fast. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared.
“Get out of my way.” ”No. I’m not letting you run and hide again.”
I stomped over to his cabinet where I knew he hid the booze. I needed a drink in order to get through this conversation. I leaned over and rifled around until I felt his body sidle up behind me. His tight groan made me glance over my shoulder and I watched as his eyes trailed up my legs and landed on my ass.
“Could you be any more inappropriate?” I questioned as I poured the amber liquid into a glass.
“I’d hardly call ogling inappropriate. Now, fucking you on my desk… that would be inappropriate.”
Pinpricks of warmth erupted between my legs. With a few dirty words, the man could put all of my good intentions to waste.
“Comments like that are what got us into this mess in the first place,” I said as I breezed past him, pretending that his words had no effect. Settling into a chair, I took a large gulp and relished the burn as the liquid trailed down my throat and into my churning stomach.
He chuckled and poured himself a drink, watching me from over his shoulder. After sauntering back, he leaned against his desk, stretching his long legs out in front of him. His proximity was disarming and I considered bolting again, but took another sip of liquid courage instead.
“And what a mess it is,” he murmured.

Author Bio:

First introduced to the genre by her grandmother, DJ Hunnam is an author with a true love for great romance novels. After reading hundreds of them over the last twenty years, she finally decided to put pen to paper and craft her own happily ever afters (HEA). She loves to write about strong heroines who fall in love with even sexier heroes, while tackling real-world problems. Her books are packed with sizzling scenes sure to make you blush.
A scientist by day and author by night, DJ Hunnam straddles the fence between the mundane and the erotic on a daily basis. When she isn’t writing, you might find her curled up with a book, chasing her two wild sons, or pursuing her own HEA with her husband of ten years. She’s a sucker for dark chocolate, a good bottle of Malbec, and a sexy six-pack.

Deidre Thompson is a timeanaut studying artists in the early 20th Century powering her time device by sex. A mysterious stranger follows her from Paris 1899 to London 1914. He saves her life which changes the timeline.

The man, Max, reveals he's been sent by the Time Counsel to save her. Max helps Deidre on the assignment. But he is secretly in love with her, and defied the Time Counsel to save her.

The timeline change brings Deidre's past love back to life, and she must choose between them.

Deidre climbed
the stairs to his loft and rang the bell. The door slid open. Inside, he was
waiting.

Strong, young,
and handsome, he had brown hair that flowed down to his shoulders that she
loved to flip in her fingers. His tan coat was covered with flecks of paint,
but was set off with a large, dark blue cravat. He always let his work spoil
his clothes. It was his charm. He glowed with a smile when he met her eyes.

“Deidre, my
love. What brings you to Montmartre today?”

“You,” she
answered as she walked through the doorway, pushing him back toward the bed.

“You are my
little vixen,” he said as he removed his cravat with a flick of his wrist.

“Do me a favor?
Hurry.”

He grabbed her
around the waist, but held up a hand to stall their descent onto the bed. An
expert at releasing a woman from frivolous garments, he expertly undid each of
her many pearl buttons, slowly, teasing her, as her silk dress began to fall
free. One tantalizing kiss followed another as he progressed down her until the
dress fell to the floor with a chorus of burgundy silk ruffles. After an
admiring gaze, he swung her onto the bed.

She turned to
see Philippe looking at her, his eyes focused on her bosoms as they peeked out
from the top of the tight corset, swelling with each breath she took. Though
she wanted to be free from its confines, she enjoyed teasing him with
anticipation. She rolled onto her side, her hair starting to unravel from her
pins, watching his reaction as he watched her. She smiled as he descended upon
her. “What are you looking at?”

“Something I
would love to paint.”

He lowered
himself down and kissed her gently with firm lips. She reached for his jaw
line, caressing it. Moving his hand down her leg, he slipped his fingers into
the top of one stocking and then the other, slowly rolling them down her legs,
kissing the insides of her warm thighs as he went. She reached down and pulled
on his hair, encouraging him to return. As he rose, he began to unlace her
corset, freeing her breasts, exposing her pert nipples. She caressed the front
of his chest, feeling the definition, the flatness of his belly. She stopped at
his waist, looking up with a smile.

“Should I
continue?” she whispered.

About the Author:

Marilyn Vix writes fast paced paranormal romances with strong females finding their HEA with hot warlocks, vampires, and time travelers. She currently lives in Northern California with her husband. This is her first full-length novel.

Marilyn is currently working on her first full-length contemporary romance, Saving My Heart and the second book in the Time Rogue series. She has a novella paranormal romance series called Beware of Warlocks with the first book entitled, Never Marry A Warlock. For more information about her books, visit her website at: https://marilynvix.com

As a trauma nurse, Laney works with surgeon Josh Stone to bring Skyler back from the brink of death and toward recovery. But what initially looks like nothing more than a freak accident may turn out to be much more dangerous—and maybe even deadly.

In the years they’ve worked together, Laney has never given Josh the time of day…

She thinks he’s nothing more than a pompous doctor looking for another notch to add to his belt. But caring for Skyler brings the pair closer, and Laney lets down her guard, allowing them the chance to find happiness together in the midst of so much destruction. But someone doesn’t want them to be happy. Someone wants Laney gone.

Threats might derail their love before it really starts…

As the couple tries to build their budding relationship, Laney begins to receive menacing messages. And when she and Josh learn that Skyler’s accident is anything but unintentional, they fight to balance finding the would-be killer with keeping keep Laney safe from her stalker. But each wild turn takes them further away from the truth…and each other.

Can Laney and Josh discover who is behind the violent acts, or is each guess they make nothing more than a shot in the dark?

Some accidents aren’t accidental…

About the Author

JG Sumner is a Registered Nurse who went rogue. As good as she was at starting IV's, she enjoys writing the down the stories in her head even more. Most of the time the characters won't stop pestering her until she has them down on paper.

JG can often be found with a glass of red wine or prosecco in front of her computer. When she's not creating, she enjoys the outdoors hiking, bike riding, snowboarding, and camping.

JG has a very dry sense of humor, and should never be taken too seriously. She loves to hear from her fans, and even those who aren't and would love to hear your opinion on her books.

JG writes romantic suspense/thrillers including: A Shot in the Dark, Into the Light, The Surrender Trilogy including Surrender, Shattered, and Saved which will be available through Limitless Publishing soon.

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Wishing for death while living through hell, Gabriella is rescued off the rocks of a Scottish loch at the lowest moment of her life by the hot, humorous Edward and the sexy, staid Liam. The two men nurse the despondent woman back to health while teaching her how to pick up the pieces of her life. Both are captivated by her and vie for her attention.

Friendships are formed and secrets revealed. One man will become her lover, while the other becomes her best friend. Together, they have a past they cannot change, a present they must live through, and a future yet to be discovered. However, every time things appear to settle down for the trio, fate deals another blow, testing their trust and faith in each other and the love they have created.

Gabriella discovers the beauty of Scotland and life anew as she learns that trust is a two-way street that can either strengthen bonds or destroy relationships. Will she accept all that she learns or continue to believe she is betraying the memories she ran from?

Gabriella stared out at the stormy water of Loch Snizort, five minutes away from the town of Portree on the Isle of Skye, Scotland. She sat on the edge of a cluster of boulders that were half-submerged in the loch. The spray of the water mingled with the tears streaming down her face. She was soaked, shivering, and not even aware the daylight was escaping from the night.

“Goddammit! God, if I believed in you—which I don’t—I would ask you why! Why!” She sobbed. “Why leave me? Please take me. I have nothing.” Her stomach muscles ached from the constant, racking sobs she couldn’t control.

She had contemplated suicide, but the fear that God did exist had stopped her. If by any chance an afterlife did exist, by killing herself, she would be denied the privilege of entering Heaven, of holding her beloved boys in her arms again. She would be stuck in the hell that was her never-ending existence.

It had been years—three to be exact—since her world had been turned from light to dark. Everyone had said she needed to deal with her grief, and she had tried. Regardless, it hadn’t worked.

Besides, who the fuck were they to say what stage of grief she was dealing with? What if the next stage never came, and she never recovered? Then what? Did people actually believe it was a conscious choice not to move on? Was it depression? Abso-fucking-lutely! Did seeing a shrink help? No. Did talking about it help? No. Did medication help? No, because no one seemed to understand Gabriella’s pain.

She had lost her world through no fault of her own. It was marred not just by loss, but also because of the rumours surrounding her family’s deaths …

***

Edward awoke to the sound of haunting sobs. A chill went up his spine, thinking if ever there were such things as ghosts, that would definitely be the sound they made. The sound triggered déjà vu in the recesses of his mind, and he searched his memory for something he couldn’t put his finger on.

The curiosity of the lost memory and the wailing sound drove him up and outside to either help whatever was making that noise or put the thing out of its misery. His mind was so busy trying to place the sounds that were haunting him that he inadvertently forgot to give Liam, his guard and best friend, a heads-up that he was leaving.

Night had descended hours ago, and even with a shirt and heavy sweater on, the chill still seeped into his bones. Combine that with the relentless sound, he was uneasy.

He cautiously walked through the gardens connected to the side door of his suite, which were stunning in the summer yet now looked lifeless and sad. He was on alert because of who he was. People were forever trying to catch him in compromising situations and always tried to take a piece of him, befriend him, and not because of friendship, but for gain. However, late April wasn’t a popular time to visit; the temperature could be downright nasty, and the sun rarely shone in the summer, let alone spring.

The inn they had chosen for its solitude was named McIntyre Country House, a beautiful, old estate that looked lonely with its regal, black roof and white exterior walls. Phone reception and Wi-Fi were on again, off again, tending to be more off.

The inn only had one other guest, and the innkeeper had tried to cancel that reservation to accommodate Edward’s privacy, but he had been unable to reach the guest in time. Instead, the owner had asked Edward if it was okay to put them on the other side of the building with the assurance they wouldn’t disturb the men. Edward had hesitantly conceded.

Just as the moon moved out from behind the clouds, the light allowed him to see.

“Good God,” he gasped.

There was a wee woman crying—no, howling—on the boulders by the loch. She must have been hurt, maybe had gotten her leg caught between the rocks, and was now crying out for help.

Edward ran at top speed then stopped just a few feet from the boulders so as not to alarm the woman curled up and cradling herself.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Miss, are you all right?”

No answer, but her sobbing turned softer.

“I don’t want to frighten you, but I am going to join you on the boulders. Miss, can you hear me?”

Still no answer.

He approached her with caution, thinking she might have been attacked, that a man or an animal had hurt her. However, something about the sound of her agony led him to believe it wasn’t a physical pain, but something much deeper.

When Edward got closer, all sounds stopped from the woman. That frightened him more than the thought of ghosts.

Did he dare touch her? What if this was another setup to make him look bad in the eyes of the world?

Edward pushed all negative thoughts aside. He had to help her.

He touched the woman’s cheek. Holy Mother of Mary, she was either frozen, or she had died before his eyes.

“Miss …? Please, are you okay?”

Bloody hell, I have to get her warm, he thought.

Edward bent down and checked for a pulse, breathing with a sense of relief when he realized she had one. Next, he checked her body for wounds, running his hand around her skull and down her neck then checking his hands continuously for blood. Nothing. Next, he ran his hands down each arm, her torso, and finally down each of her legs. She appeared not to be bleeding or, by quick assessment, didn’t have any broken bones. His military training had its rewards, one being he was efficient in field combat first-aid.

He gently lifted the woman into his arms, which wasn’t an easy task since she was soaked to the bone. He had a dilemma. His arms were full, and if he made any sound or someone spotted him carrying a hurt woman, the press would explode and crucify him in the tabloids.

Shaking off those thoughts, he progressed carefully across the boulders; carried her quickly through the gardens; and, in mere moments, was back at the inn.

He gently laid her down on the ground and searched for his key.

Damn it to hell! He had forgotten to grab it.

He felt it before he heard the words, a gun pressed against the back of his skull. Fuck, could this night get any worse?

“Take your hand off the door and back away from the woman.”

Edward released a thankful breath.

“Liam, man, it’s me, Edward,” he whispered.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Liam cursed. “I could have blown your fucking head off. What in God’s green earth are you doing out here? And where the bloody hell did that woman come from?”

Liam secured his weapon in his chest holster, gave Edward the key to both suites, and then gently lifted the woman into his arms. He had to wonder if Edward had dragged her body up from Loch Snizort. Had she almost drowned, or had she been trying to commit suicide?

Whatever had happened to this woman, Liam couldn’t even fathom. She was soaked and frozen. They needed to get herinside, and Edward out of sight.

Liam walked through Edward’s suite and told him to unlock the connecting door into his own. Once there, Liam laid the woman on the chesterfield. Even in an emergency, he had enough sense to do his job and protect Edward first. He also had to consider any gossip that could surround Edward, especially if anyone knew there was an unconscious woman in their lodgings.

After re-establishing she had a pulse, first-aid 101 stated she needed to be warmed up as quickly as possible. Therefore, Liam instructed Edward to go into his closet and grab his workout clothes, consisting of sweat pants, a T-shirt, and a hooded sweatshirt. Liam also wanted towels.

Liam looked down at the girl and assessed her age to be mid- to late-twenties. She looked like a drowned rat with herlong, dark hair hanging in wet clumps around her delicate, tiny face. Her bone structure was fine and reminded him of a bird. Her skin was a grey colour, wrinkled, wet, and goose bumps covered every inch. Her lips were purple, and she had dark circles under her eyes that made her look even younger. Liam noticed all this as he started to remove her clothing.

He tried to give her as much dignity as he could, which wasn’t an easy task when the jeans were so wet they clung toher like a second skin. Regardless, he finally managed to peel the pants off along with a turquoise lace thong. The woman’s lady bits were hairless, much like the slags from porn movies.

Liam, feeling a little guilt and shame for noticing, and quickly averted his eyes, moving on to pull her coat and sweater off. As he did, he couldn’t help noticing she had on a matching turquoise bra that he removed to reveal her shapely breasts. What really knocked the breath out of his lungs were the stretch marks and scars that lay all over her lower belly. This young woman was someone’s mum, and it was his responsibility now to make sure she was reunited with her loved ones.

Why was she alone, wet, and nearly frozen to death? Where was her family?

Edward approached with the items Liam had requested, but before he reached the girl, Liam stopped him.

“Throw the clothes and wait until I cover her.”

“Really, Liam? Sod the fuck off. She isn’t the first female I have seen naked.”

“But she is someone’s mum, and if it were Raven, she would have been devastated by one strange man seeing hernaked, let alone two.”

At the mention of Raven, Edward stopped dead in his tracks, tossed the clothing, and turned his back. Liam very rarely mentioned Raven, so this meant something to him.

Liam worked quickly and efficiently to warm and dress the mysterious woman. Now all tucked in the chesterfield with his clothing swimming on her tiny frame and blankets wrapped around her, she appeared to be resting peacefully.

Liam turned to Edward. “Where did the lass come from? Who is she? And why did you not call me to give assistance?”

Liam wouldn’t call the authorities or Scotland Yard yet, not until they were certain the young woman wanted or needed police help. He wanted Edward far away from whatever was going on. Nevertheless, they would have to wait to get answers when she awoke.

Virtual Book Tour - January 16 - February 24

Author Info:Anne Marie Citro grew born and raised in the greater Toronto area of Ontario, Canada. She grew up in a large, loving family. Anne Marie is married to a very patient man. He is the love of her life. They have four very cool sons, and the girls they brought into their family that have become daughters of her heart. She has been blessed enough to finally have a beautiful granddaughter after four sons. She has her own personal gaggle of girlfriends, who enrich her life on a daily basis and make her laugh. Caesar Friday is her favourite day of the week. Caesars with the girls and date night with her hubby. She works with special-needs teenagers, that have taught her how to appreciate life and see it through gentler eyes. Anne Marie was encouraged by her husband to follow her life long dream to write. She loves the characters that take over imagination and haunts her dreams. She loves the arts and she has tried her hand at painting, wood sculpting, chainsaw carving, wood burning, metal and wire sculptures. Yes, her husband is a very patient man! Anne Marie is an avid reader and enjoys about three books per week. But nothing makes her happier then riding on the back of her husband's Harley and throwing her arms out and feeling the wind race by. Anne Marie and her husband take a few weeks every year to travel to spectacular destination around the world. Anne Marie is excited and can't wait to see what the next chapter holds for her life.and enjoys about three books per week.

Vampires and werewolves shouldn’t fall in love.
Lysandra was born for one reason; to kill shifters. Princess of vampires, the heir to Vlad Dracula’s throne and the last descendant of Princess Anastasia, Lysandra lives in a castle of witches and human slaves,engaged to a dark vampire prince and prophesied as the one who will end the war between vampires and werewolves forever.
Everything changes when Lysandra finds a dying werewolf. She takes him into her care and quickly falls in love, unable to explain the magical connection between them. If she’s discovered, she will be put to death. But how can she stop the war when her worst enemy is her true love?
A heart-stopping love story filled with shocking twists, Court of Vampires is a thrilling young adult fantasy that readers will devour over and over again. The legend of what really happened to the Romanov family is retold in Megan Linski’s newest haunting paranormal romance.

Author Bio:Megan Linski is the owner of Gryfyn Publishing and has had a passion for writing ever since she was a little girl. Her specializations are romance, fantasy, and contemporary fiction for teens and adults. When not writing, she enjoys ice skating, horse riding, and being outdoors. She is a passionate advocate for mental health awareness and suicide prevention, and is an active fighter against common variable immune deficiency disorder.
In December 2016, Megan signed a deal with Amazon's Kindle Press for her Kindle Scout Winner, Court of Vampires, due to be published 2017. You can find Megan at www.meganlinski.com, and receive a FREE book, The Witch's Curse, by signing up for her VIP List there.
Megan Linski also writes under the pen name of Natalie Erin for the Creatures of the Lands Series, co-authored with Krisen Lison.

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The streets are a battleground
for humans, vampires, and demons alike—where survival is a skill, love is a
weapon, and the most dangerous act is to care for another . . .

Keir is an assassin devoted to
Lady Arianne, the last of her royal bloodline. He is sworn to protect her, and
that means eliminating any threat to her life. But while on a mission, he is
set upon by a pack of demons, barely escaping with his life.

Cleopatra lives by a set of rules
so rigid she no longer knows her true self. But her kind and loving nature
resurfaces when she finds a man, bloodied and dying. Moved to help him, she
risks her future and her life to save a stranger far below her aristocratic
station.

Their attraction to each other is
as powerful as it is forbidden. But even as their love grows, Keir keeps his
true identity a secret—and this lie is not the only threat to their love . . .
or their lives.

Cleopatra was
utterly trapped. She longed to close her eyes and block him out, but fear of
the unknown kept them wide open. The man had no weapon, couldn’t possibly mean
to harm her. Except, would he really need a weapon? She couldn’t fight him,
wouldn’t even know where to begin.

He studied her
closely, and when his head tilted slightly, she noticed every bit of his focus
fixated on her neck. Not a murderer. He wanted to mark her, to bite her neck,
leave the wound to heal and forever bind her to him. This was why daughters of
the aristocracy were kept under a tight watch. The mark, unbreakable and
indisputable, would give this man access to her family’s wealth and prestige,
and bind her to him until death.

He reached for
her, head descending to her neck. Cleopatra quickly covered his target with
both hands. Tears gathered in her eyes, sorrow distorted her voice. “I don’t
want this. Please, don’t hurt me.”

The man rocked
back as if she’d smacked him, and for the first time since he’d appeared, he
looked at her face. His eyes met hers and didn’t look away as he brought his
hand to her cheek and brushed away a tear. He saw her, truly saw her, and the
adoration in his eyes sent a completely different shimmy down her spine.

In one step, he
crowded her, pressing his cheek against hers. “Could never hurt you. My angel,”
his captivating voice crooned, so close to her ear. He drew in a deep breath,
his face buried in her hair. Then he whispered, “My Cleo.”

She gasped. The
shortened version of her name on his lips sounded strangely intimate, as though
he’d known her for years. The warmth rolling off his body kept her intensely
aware of his close proximity, and she held her breath, waiting for his next
move to prove his intent. He didn’t bite her, didn’t hurt her, and the sincere
affection in his gentle touch left her so very confused. Any other man would
have bitten her, taken advantage of the opportunity laid before him. But this
man? His intent to bite her had been unmistakable, and he’d stopped because
he…cared for her? She didn’t understand.

His hand slipped
from her face, dropped to his side, and he staggered back, moving as if through
a dream. He still watched her, but he swayed, that intense focus suddenly gone.
The man crumpled to the floor with a heavy thud.

Dragging in a
long, shaky breath, she blinked away tears she’d been staring through. A few
more deep breaths, and she allowed herself to really look at him. He lay on his
side, knees slightly curled, motionless. Something was wrong with him. People
didn’t just fall over.

Gripping the
railing, which had swiftly become her personal anchor, she pointed her foot and
gingerly nudged his arm. When he didn’t move, she put more force behind the
kick. Cleopatra jumped as his hand fell away from his ribs, thumping onto the
floor. Blood coated his fingers.

He was bleeding?
She’d missed the injury completely. The saturated, glistening spot had been
hidden under his hand and camouflaged by his black button-up shirt. He’d been
so close and she hadn’t… She glanced down at herself. Blood streaked across her
pale blue gown, more evidence of his severe injury.

The elevator
doors slid open. Oh God, if someone were to see them together in this state,
what would they think? What would happen to her, or to him? Her heart hammered,
panic flooding through her as she peeked out into the main corridor of
Sterling.

The white,
gold-trimmed corridor stretched on, empty. The elevator doors slid shut, and
there it would stay, unless called. She might not have much time. Peering down
at the unconscious man, she tried to fit the puzzle pieces together.

She’d mistaken
his intent. He’d needed sustenance badly, and now he bled out, dying at her
feet. Because of who she was, he refused to harm her, to take from her. How did
he have the willpower to block his instincts from taking over, to stop from
feeding?

Whoever he was,
she had to save him. She dropped to her knees and pushed away any lingering
fear under her newfound resolve. Tugging his shirt from his dark jeans, she
searched for the injury. In the midst of his blood-slicked skin, the wound
gaped open between his ribs. It looked like he’d been slashed, the nasty gash a
result of being on the wrong end of a knife. Just a guess. She had no
experience with this sort of villainy.

Her hand flew to
her mouth. The murderer running loose in Galbraith used a knife. Could this man
be yet another victim?

“Can you hear
me? What happened to you? Who did this?” She awkwardly patted his whiskered
cheek. His eyes fluttered open, then shut again.

“Balinese is
safe.” His voice trembled, his words slurred without support from his shallow
breath. “Paris. Demons.”

Cleopatra’s
fingers fumbled as she pulled away his shirt collar. Several teeth-like gouges
in his shredded skin oozed blood near his collarbone. Demons. They’d almost
made a meal of him, and he was a bloody mess, but the real danger came from
that knife wound. It looked deep, and if he’d been damaged internally and lost
too much blood, he might not survive.

He needed blood
now. She bit her wrist and pressed it against his mouth. His lips didn’t part,
and his body refused to respond. A rivulet of blood slid down his cheek. He’d
die if she didn’t fight for him.

Jen Colly is the rare case of an
author who rebelled against reading assignments throughout her school years.
Now she prefers reading books in a series, which has led her to writing her
first paranormal romance series: The Cities Below. She will write about
anything that catches her fancy, though truth be told, her weaknesses are
pirates and vampires.

She lives in Ohio with her
supportive husband, two kids, one big fluffy dog, and four rescued cats.